You may be interested to know that I have categorized thirteen kinds of despair, listed here for your convenience… and arranged by time-of-day, so with planning you may experience all thirteen despairs in a single twenty-four hour period.
The first kind of despair is the suspicion that there is no safe territory outside the warm confines of one’s bedclothes.
The second kind of despair is the sense that even the most elegant of breakfasts is fragile resistance to the oncoming day.
The third kind of despair is finding life as shifty and indiscernible as the Rorschach of crumbs on your plate.
The fourth kind of despair is when the tea is so hot you must leave it alone until it is far too cold.
The fifth kind of despair is the knowledge that with the sun overhead, your shadow has vanished and there is no place to hide.
The sixth kind of despair is when you realize you must close the book you are reading and reluctantly participate in something or other.
The seventh kind of despair is that the sun has set on another day and so little has been done.
The eighth kind of despair is burning dinner in the oven.
The ninth kind of despair is the realization that a bad dinner still creates dirty dishes.
The tenth kind of despair is the presentiment that a darkening sky brings darkening times.
The eleventh kind of despair is the inkling that an evening should have been better spent but that it is almost bedtime.
The twelfth kind of despair is the knowledge that countless others are sleepless with you.
The thirteenth kind of despair occurs at every moment, waking or sleeping, and surely this needs no explanation.
There were always in me, two women at least, one woman desperate and bewildered, who felt she was drowning and another who would leap into a scene, as upon a stage, conceal her true emotions because they were weaknesses, helplessness, despair, and present to the world only a smile, an eagerness, curiosity, enthusiasm, interest
Why not leave the country? But despair is no answer. To combat authoritarianism, to call out lies, to struggle honorably and fiercely in the name of American ideals—that is what is left to do. That is all there is to do.
When he was a child,
he had to watch the cruel murder of all his friends and family
members so that the Millennium items could be created. After that he
was all alone. His grief, hatred and loneliness slowly made him go
mad. Everything got even worse when Zorc took control of him.
Of course Bakura did
some horrible things. Revenge is never a solution, but he didn’t
deserve this destiny. It would have been great if only the darkness
in his heart was destroyed and he finally found peace.